


With a Golden Band

by byjillianmaria



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 03:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byjillianmaria/pseuds/byjillianmaria
Summary: When they tell the story of her descent into the underworld, they always make her so soft. Gathering flowers in her mother’s garden, sun on her shoulders, wind in her hair, pollen falling from her fingertips. Isn’t it a shame, they say, that such a gentle girl became so hardened, bitter and angry and smelling of wine. Look at how she was before, look at the delicate creature the king of the underworld fell in love with, where is she now?It’s a pretty story. But it ain’t true.





	With a Golden Band

When they tell the story of her descent into the underworld, they always make her so soft. Gathering flowers in her mother’s garden, sun on her shoulders, wind in her hair, pollen falling from her fingertips. Isn’t it a shame, they say, that such a gentle girl became so hardened, bitter and angry and smelling of wine. Look at how she was before, look at the delicate creature the king of the underworld fell in love with, where is she now?

It’s a pretty story. But it ain’t true.

They got the broad strokes of it right. She had been in her mother’s garden, and her hands did smell of pollen, but not because she’d been gathering flowers. She’d been ripping them out by the handful, actually—throwing a right and proper tantrum, screeching with the voice that she never let anyone hear on purpose before she started drinking. On some level, she knew she was being ridiculous. But if her mama insisted on treating her like a child, of caging and coddling and dismissing her whenever she spoke, then she was going to _ act _ like a child.

She fell to her knees in the dirt, staining her dress that was really already stained beyond repair. Her chest heaved and her face was hot, her teeth bared in a grimace as her eyes prickled. She was so tired of this. She wanted to be _ anywhere _ but here.

And then, as if in answer, a subterranean voice echoed from the shadows of the distant trees. “Come home with me.”

Persephone scrambled to her feet, ungainly in a way that would make her mother roll her eyes and scoff. “Who are you?”

He stepped forward, then—not entirely out of the shadows, but enough that she could make out the handsome line of his jaw, the hair that was just beginning to gray. “The man who’s gonna marry you,” he said, but he was _smirking_ while he said it. Persephone couldn’t tell if it was because he was kidding or because he was already sure of her answer.

Then she saw his hands, clutching his hat. They were trembling. He was _ terrified_, and only just hiding it behind sunglasses and a rumbling voice.

She laughed, because what else was she supposed to do? He was ridiculous, but she was even more so, in her frilly dress and her face smeared with angry tears and dirt. She didn’t have the energy to call him out on his obviously false bravado. Anyway, it was kinda cute. “Does the man who’s gonna marry me got a _ name _?”

He paused, his grip on his hat tightening. “You don’t know?”

Persephone waved an airy hand. “You ain’t the first god to show up in my mama’s garden, mister. You expect me to keep track?”

He sighed, and he sounded nettled in a way that Persephone couldn’t quite place. “I’m Hades.”

This got her attention. She sat up, looking up at him with newfound interest. “The king of the mines himself, hm? What brings you out of the underworld?”

Hades inclined his head, just slightly. “You.”

_ Oh_. Warning bells screeched in the back of Persephone’s mind, stories of swans and bulls and capturing priestesses on the steps of their own places of worship. She scrambled to her feet, a snarl on her lips, maybe he was a god and there was nothing she could do but damned if she wasn’t gonna _ try _—

Hades took a step backward, palms out and waving wildly. He dropped his hat into the dirt and accidentally knocked his sunglasses off in the process, showing wide eyes full of horror. “Oh, no. I’m not like _ that _.”

Persephone relaxed—slightly. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you like, then?”

“I make offers. You’re free to refuse.”

It was hard to disbelieve him. His eyes were so open, earnest. No wonder he hid them behind those frankly silly-looking sunglasses. Persephone crossed her arms. “Alright, then. Make me an offer.”

She did her best not to show it, but her heart fluttered a bit at the thought. She wasn’t used to being offered anything. Her mama forced things on her, demanded things of her. She was just meant to go along with it, not make choices of her own.

“It’s been a long time, just me and the dark,” he told her, and those eyes were so vulnerable. They were, Persephone thought, the sorts of eyes a girl could fall in love with. “I’ve never wanted anything to change that, but you… you’re incredible. A whirlwind, a force of nature. And you’re wasted up here. I’ve seen how your mother’s treated you. You’re destined for so much _ more_, Persephone.”

Her voice came out full of wonder, whisper-quiet without her permission. “Like what, Hades?” Like they were old friends, on a first-name basis. And maybe it felt that way, a little. Maybe it felt like this man with his blustering bravado was someone that she’d always known.

“Like being my queen,” he replied. “Like ruling alongside me, underground.”

Persephone circled him once, real slow. Hades stood stock-still, except for the trembling in his hands.

“Seems to me,” she said to him, “That a queen’s got certain duties other than ruling. At least when she’s got a king, she does. What do you think about those?”

He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him a chance to answer. She grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him, instead.

It was galvanizing, like an electric shock. But beneath that bloomed the sweetest flower, something many-petaled and red that took up the whole shape of her heart. Her mama had opinions about flowers and women and what they should be doing with them, she knew, but in that moment all she wanted was to hand that flower over to Hades and let him do what he pleased with it.

And when she pressed her body against his, she could feel that he wanted the same thing. God or not, some parts of him were perfectly human. Suddenly Hades was only a man.

Persephone decided that she liked that. She liked being the cause of that.

“Persephone,” he gasped when they finally broke for air. “Please. Have pity on my heart.”

She could say no, she realized, and he’d listen to her. But there wasn’t a single part of her that wanted to. Her longing felt too big to contain, burning like a fire in the pit of her chest, turning like a bird on a spit. She hadn’t known that she could want someone like this, but she wanted Hades.

She pulled him down over her, in the dirt.

It wasn’t a particularly romantic first time. She spent most of it with her cheek pressed into the dirt, staring at the scattered seeds from the plants she’d ripped up. That didn’t matter. She and Hades would need time to find each other’s rhythms better, and that didn’t matter either. Because she’d _ give _ them time.

She’d go home with him. Down to his underworld. Down to his kingdom. Her life, once confined to the small map of her mother’s making, suddenly seemed full of possibility. Life as a queen. With Hades by her side. It could be beautiful. It was this thought as much as Hades’s eager-to-please hands that finally brought her to release, gasping and calling his name.

He laid beside her in the dirt when it was all over. He held out something that glittered, gold and red.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Your ticket,” he replied, a hint of his old charming smile back.

She took it in shaking hands. It was a ring, golden and inlaid with six small, polished red stones like pomegranate seeds. It was, surely, the finest thing she’d ever held (except perhaps the man that gave it to her), but that didn’t matter to her as much as what it represented.

Freedom. Hades could set her free.

She slipped it on her finger.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure I slipped into present tense at least twice while drafting. Here's hoping I edited all of 'em out.


End file.
